


The Game

by Confiteor (Tricksterfaerie)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Implied Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, M/M, POV Outsider, Shotgunning, Young Winchesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterfaerie/pseuds/Confiteor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come hang out with me and my brother. It will be fun. I promise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goandgetthegun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goandgetthegun/gifts).



> Originally posted anonymously on tumblr and I finally decided to put it here.
> 
> Thanks to Jessie who found the first part and inspired me to write more. 
> 
> I have been told the story works as it is now but I had planned for more.
> 
> Because I can be lazy like that I can't promise it will be updated quickly. 
> 
> Unrepentantly unbeta'd.

"Alright everyone, this is our new student..."

Ms. Page looks down at the paper in her hand and then squints over her reading glasses at the new kid. "Samuel...Sam?" The kid nods and Ms. Page repeats it to the class. "Sam Winchester."

 Ms. Page hands him back his class schedule and the abridged copy of _The Count Of Monte Cristo_ we've been reading before pointing in my direction. "You can take the seat behind Charlie." 

Sam catches my eye as he heads down the aisle. I turn to watch him ease his long frame into the curve of the student desk behind me. He leans back with his rig ht leg straight out under the desk and into the aisle with the practiced agility and relaxed confidence a of a guy who had given up trying to fit properly under a student desk a long time ago.

I turn back and answer the question Ms. Page asks me about the reading we had been assigned. I like reading. I like the book. Sometimes Ms. Page suggests books for me to check out at the library that are a little more advanced than the ones for class and encouraged me to read a few graphic novels and Isaac Asimov stories. 

When the teacher turns her attention to another student Sam taps me on the shoulder. He whispers in my ear. "My favorite part is when Morrel almost commits suicide but then finds out at the last moment all his debts are paid." and then slouches back again.  

At the end of the class he tells me to meet him in the parking lot after school. "Come hang out with me and my brother. It will be fun. I promise."

Sam spots me lurking by the door closest to the senior class parking lot.

I stand there wondering if I should have come at all and i _f I run right now maybe I can still catch the b-_

"Come on, Dean's over there." Sam pats my arm and points to the kid leaning up against the classic black car at the far end of the parking lot. 

When Sam's brother spots us he nods but doesn't move. When we get close Sam holds out his hand motioning for me to stop. 

"You coming back tomorrow?" Sam asks his brother.

"I haven't decided yet." There's a pause then, "So who's this Sammy?" It's spoken at Sam without even a glance in my direction. 

"This is Charlie. Charlie's cool." Sam says and steps forward past Dean. "and coming with us." Sam turns to smile at me as he walks around the car to sit shotgun. 

When Dean finally looks at me it feels like the entire world skips a beat. Like he is absorbing every detail of me from the ground up. It feels uncomfortable but not dangerous. Like he's just as curious about me but is waiting for me to say something, before I can speak though he reaches for the handle to the back driver's side door and opens it, "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?" He says.

When I slide into the backseat the leather feels smooth and worn in and comfortable. It smells vaguely like my grandparent's house, invokes the wood paneling and the green lamp over the pool table in the basement.

I listen to them talking but can't really understand the conversation. It doesn't take long for me to realize I'm not meant to. They're not ignoring me but they're talking in an abbreviated brother code for my benefit and Dean is laughing when Sam looks over his shoulder at me like I should be laughing at a joke he just made.  

We drive out past the residential neighborhood and park next to an open field just outside the city limit. 

Dean slings an army surplus bag over his shoulder and takes a small lantern out of the trunk.  

"I hope we're not stuck in this one stop light town for too long, man" Dean says.

As we move away from the car. They fall in step next to each other still doing the not quite ignoring me thing.

"Come on, just play nice with the auto shop kids." Sam is saying. "They'll worship you. You'll get your hands dirty. You might even have fun." 

"Fun? Like this?" He says slowing and motioning back towards me. 

"We all have our turn-ons man." Sam sighs and and starts walking again pushing his way through the trees and Dean follows. 

I couldn't stop watching them. The way they anticipated each other's movements so easily. Like a dance that they had choreographed and taught each other slowly and without words. 

After Sam gets a few steps ahead he calls out without tuning around. "Hey Charlie? Do you believe in ghosts?"


	2. Two

“Hey Charlie? Do you believe in  _ghosts_?” Sam has gotten ahead of us but Dean actually turns and looks at me waiting for an answer.  

He smiles and cocks an eyebrow at me and I start shifting the strap of my back pack on my shoulder. The full force of Dean Winchester's attention focused on me again is unsettling and I lower my eyes. 

“I’d never really thought about it.” It's the truth.

Dean turns and starts walking again leading us deeper into the thicket behind the old red barn on the edge of Saunders Farm

I have to jog a bit to catch up with them. “Umm maybe? Maybe yeah- Yes.” I admit stepping over a mossy trunk and slightly out of breath. 

Dean and Sam turn to look back at me at the same time and I feel something cold spreading outward from deep in my stomach when I  see them turn back and catch each other’s eyes. Dean only nods at Sam and keeps walking. 

We make it to a small clearing and Dean sets down his bag and the lantern. Sam also puts his backpack on the ground and sits on a fallen log. Dean lounges on the ground next to his brother with his back against the log. 

“So you’ve never seen one?” Sams asks. 

“What? A ghost?” I laugh as I sit facing them. I watch as Sam slides close enough so that his leg is brushing Dean’s shoulder.  

At the contact Dean turns his face towards Sam and looks up. When Sam looks down I can tell they are having one of those coded conversations again only silently this time.  I see Sam cut his eyes toward me and then back to his brother without turning his head. Slowly Sam leans down and stops with his face only inches away from Dean’s and then deliberately reaches across Dean to grab the canvas bag and sits back up.

Dean scowls and I her him mutter the word  _bitch._

Sam opens the bag and hands Dean a small wooden box. “Jerk.” Sam says smiling at me. I can tell the insult is meant for his brother. It's code. _Don't mind my brother, Charlie._

Dean takes the box with a look that makes me think of an easily distracted dog being handed a favorite toy. Dean immediately opens it and begins rolling a joint. 

Sam pulls a book of matches out of the bag and starts fiddling with the lantern at his feet. The firelight plays over Sam’s face and catches in his hazel-grey eyes making them sparkle in a way that makes the cold feeling in my stomach return and the back of my neck tingle. The sound of Sam snapping the door shut on the lantern makes me jump. 

Sam notices the movement and one side of his lip curls up. But when he turns to me he's still smiling the same relaxed smile and I start to wonder if there is anything I could do to make that smile slip.  

”Dean knows some really great ghost stories,” Sam says before calling over his shoulder. “Don’t you Dean?” 

Dean licks the glue strip on the thin white paper and then curls his fingers rolling the joint up and down, sealing it in one smooth practiced motion as he says evenly  ”You sure about this Sammy?”  


	3. Three

Dean looks up and keeps eye contact with Sam as he licks the glue strip on the thin white paper and then drops his gaze back down to his hands before saying, ”You sure about this Sammy?” Dean reaches into his jacket pocket to retrieve a small silver lighter.

Sam ignores the question. Finished with the lantern he straightens up and sits back up on the log and wipes his hands on his thighs before picking up the canvas bag again. This time Sam pulls out a candy bar and tosses it at me. It hits my chest before I can react and lands in my lap.

“Dude! You’re violating the laws of the food rations.” Dean actually rises to his knees but starts to back down before he’s even all the way up after Sam turns to him but I can't see the look on his face. Dean goes back to lounging with his back against the log, resting his arm on his right knee the other leg splayed out in front him. “Oh I see. I guess we’re feeding the civilians now.” Dean stares at me as he snicks open the lighter and dips one end of the joint into the flame and then snaps it closed with a flick of his wrist.

“Civilians?” I hear myself say without meaning to. Dean just smiles at me while blowing smoke into the air but doesn't speak and then holds the joint out to Sam. In response Sam slides down off the log to kneel next to his brother.

"Shotgun?" Sam says. Dean does that thing again where he silently flicks his eyes toward me and then back to Sam and then sits up and puts the joint lit end first into his mouth and holding it between his teeth. I watch as Sam gets on his knees and leans toward his brother. Dean reaches out to rest his hand on Sam's thigh to steady himself and something about the interaction makes me want to look away but I can't. Like I am being told a secret I don't want to know and I wonder for the first time why I agreed to come along in the first place.

When Sam lifts his head and coughs a few times Dean doesn’t move. He hits the joint himself and then says “Again?” Sam nods. This time Dean's hand slides up to rest on Sam's hip. This time they get close enough that their lips touch lightly and I feel myself blushing.

After a minute Sam reaches out to push on Dean's chest. Dean resists at first but finally leans back and takes the joint out of his mouth. After Sam's done coughing again he looks at me through the fringe of his hair and I feel myself blushing again but I still don't look away. Sam still has that practiced easy smile on his face and I can feel myself smiling back and when Sam's smile deepens I realize he has dimples.

It takes me a minute to realize Dean is watching us stare at each other.

“You wanna kiss my brother Charlie?” Dean asks.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” I answer quickly. It’s a lie this time though.

Dean laughs again spluttering and rasping on the smoke exiting his lungs. “Give it a rest Dean.” Sam says and when I look back the dimples are gone.

Dean reaches for the canvas bag but Sam snatches it away. When Dean keeps trying to reach it Sam stands and holds it behind his back. When Dean stands up Sam backs up a few feet. Dean chuckles and looks down for a split second before rushing toward Sam. Sam starts to run and Dean chases him.

“Give it to me Sam.” Dean calls out.

“Come and get it if you really want it.” Sam calls back. He doubles back and nearly trips over my foot and drops the bag. It lands with a soft thud between my legs and the flap falls open.

The laughter dies in my throat when I see the flash of silver in the bag for an instant before Sam swoops down again slings the strap over his shoulder and dives over the fallen log. I look up at them still playing keep away and laughing like nothing is wrong and for a second I let myself believe maybe they don't know. Maybe they have no idea. Maybe I haven't followed two complete strangers into the woods who are fighting over a bag of candy and a gun.

The cold feeling has returned and is spreading through my body and sort of feels like it is pooling on the top of my head.

Dean finally reaches out and grabs Sam and they both fall to the ground wrestling over the bag. “I _will_ tickle you Sam, I swear to god!” Dean is saying.

“And I will kick your ass.”

“I'd like to see you try baby boy.”

I don’t so much as stand as spring to my feet. “This has been fun and I all but I should probably get going.” I try to say calmly picking up my back pack and shrugging into the straps.

“Charlie. No Wait. You can’t leave yet.” Sam says turning his head to me trying to wriggle out from under his brother where Dean has him pinned to the ground. Still wearing that damn smile.

“I really don’t think I should be here. I’m just gonna go.”

Sam looks at me for a minute and I try to keep my face blank. I can't really meet his eyes but I can feel him studying me.

"I wish you'd stay but at least let us give you a ride back to town man." Sam says finally.

“That's okay. It was real nice meeting you Sam. I- I'll see you in class.” I add quickly.

I turn and start to walk back the way we came willing my body not to run. After I take about three steps a small knife finds it’s target in the dirt a few inches in front of my foot. I stop. I let my eyes trail over to them but otherwise remain still. Dean lowers his arm and looks back over at his brother.

“Was that _really_ necessary?” Sam huffs at him.

“You said you didn’t want him to leave.” Dean answers shrugging.

The anger on Sam’s face shows. His lips are tight and his shoulders are back. He looks annoyed but not at all surprised by his brother’s action.

"You are such a freak." Sam says.

"Takes one to know one." Dean answers.

“You don’t have to worry. I didn’t see anything okay.” I interrupt trying to catch Sam's eye. I can tell it was the wrong thing to say a moment to late.

“Well, that’s true because there was nothing to see.” Dean practically growls at me.

“Right. That’s what I meant. I saw nothing.” I hear myself saying. As Dean starts moving toward me I start to back up instinctively and then freeze again when Sam steps between us with his back to me and puts a hand on his brother's chest.

”Look, I won’t tell anyone, I- I swear.” I whisper before I can stop myself.

I hear Sam calling his brother’s name then. It echoes through the trees and I hear the rapid flapping of startled birds taking flight. It all sounds very strange and far away.

I don’t feel the pain in my cheekbone until I start to come to but the back of my head hitting the ground registers before the darkness shifts into place behind my eyes and I slip out of consciousness.


	4. Four

I hear the rapid flapping of startled birds taking flight as Sam's voice echoes through the trees.  It all sounds very strange and far away and I'm falling backwards with the sudden force and propulsion of Dean's fist and I feel my limbs go slack. When the back of my head hits the ground,  darkness shifts into place behind my eyes as I slip out of consciousness

I am not sure how much time passes but s uddenly the entire left side of my face is throbbing, the pain crawling up and under my hairline. It feels like my head is being pushed apart from the inside. It starts to pass quickly but I can still feel tears welling up, burning the edges of my eyelids and it's like the pain is sort of hovering somewhere around the base of my neck.

The tears slip down the side of my face when I blink against the darkness, the tops of the trees blurring into the indigo of the sky and the thousand stars visible this so far outside of town, away from the light pollution. I’m about to groan at a particularly sharp pulse at the back of my head when I hear voices and I realize that Sam and Dean are still there and I freeze trying to listen to them.

“What exactly are you trying to prove here Sammy?”

“What does it look like I’m trying to do Dean? I’m trying to understand what it’s like not -- to be --us! To grow up like us. To go to school and learn things you can’t fucking read in Guns and Ammo-”

“It’s boring Sam! _He’s_ boring. I’m bored.”

I try to turn my head as gently and quietly as possible the muscles in my neck screaming and I dig my fingers into the dirt. They are talking about me. I can understand that much. _Did Sam say something about Guns?_ I watch them in silhouette, lit only by the tiny flickering light of the lantern still on the ground.

“Normal isn't boring Dean, it's safe, it's –but you – "

“You will never have a normal life kid. Wherever you go, whatever you do you will never not know what's out there. The things you've done. The things you've seen. There's no going back.”

“You sound like Dad.”

“Dad's right.”

“I am so not having this conversation with you right now.”

“Oh. We can talk when you want to but when I want to, we’re not having this conversation.”

“You mean the one where you tell me to suck it up and fall in line. You’re such a good little soldier big brother. Tell me again about how we’re going to get revenge for mommy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah.” Sam huffs. “You wish.”

Dean shoots forward then and grabs Sam by the faux fur lapel of his corduroy jacket. His other hand goes to Sam’s throat and he spreads his fingers along the side of Sam’s neck running his thumb along his jawline and under his chin.

They are silent for a long moment, staring each other down and I feel my throat go dry, suddenly a little terrified again. The firelight plays off sides off their faces. Sam looks like he is waiting for something. Waiting for Dean to say something, but when Dean opens his mouth again Sam pushes at him.

“Just get off me you fucking jerk, get off me.” He says.  

“You're a spoiled little bitch Sammy.”

“Yeah, I am and if you hit me I'm telling Dad. I hope you like doing fifty extra push-ups every day this week.”

Dean chuckles darkly and looks away from Sam's face then he lets his brother go so quickly Sam stumbles backwards.  Sam shakes his head and turns; starting to walk in the direction of the car. Dean stands there for a minute before calling after him.

“Hey hey hey…Don’t be like that. Come on. Come on.”

Dean goes after him and reaches for Sam’s shoulder. Sam spins back around and catches Dean by the wrist and tilts his head.

There is a split second where nothing happens and then I start to feel like I got punched again as I watch Sam turn his hand and lace his fingers through Dean’s.

“Truce?” Sam says.

Dean closes his eyes and breathes out before he drops to his knees in front of his brother. He rests his head on Sam’s stomach and when  Sam lets his fingers run through Dean’s hair  Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s waist. 

“Don’t tell Dad.” Sam says and it sounds like a command.

“Nah. I got you Sammy. I always got you.”


	5. Five

“Charlie. Charlie. Wake up Charlie.”

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

“Hey man. Hey!”

My eyes snap open meeting mystical looking blue grey eyes and Sam’s hand lightly tapping my right shoulder.

“Charlie?” It's a question this time. Not a command. _Don't tell dad._

“Say something.” Sam says. 

“S-something.” I get to see the dimples again and I’m almost smiling back before I am reminded of the way the fire light played in his eyes. _Dean knows lots of ghost stories don't you Dean._

“Dean.” I hear myself say. The dimples are gone again.

“Sorry Charlie.” 

I hate when people say that. It's a catchphrase from a commercial. I feel bad for all the Charlie's in the world who struggle with the concept of sarcasm now.  I laugh without meaning to.  It occurs to me then I might have a concussion.  It sort of feels like the time I got drunk at my Aunt Maureen’s wedding and threw up in the bathroom while my cousin Scooter laughed at me. I start to sit up and it surprises me that one of my arms is still looped under the strap of my backpack. I push my way up and sort of crab walk backwards from Sam.

“I'm- We’re -- not going to hurt you Charlie.” He says.

“L-look S-Sam, I don't know what the hell s’happening here but I -- umm I don't think I want to actually s-so --” 

I stop talking because Sam is giving me this strange look; well he’s not quite looking at me but he’s nodding at my words. His eyes are shinning like he is holding back tears and his head is slightly tilted down and there’s this small crease between his eyebrows and all I can think about is Scooter’s Beagle.  

_Wow_ , I think. _Wow. He's good._ I let out a deep breath. 

“I'm not going to go to the cops or anything okay. My parents won't even care. I - get beat up sometimes…I got my ass kicked last year. I screwed up the bell curve. I might have gotten a perfect score on the algebra midterm. Or maybe it was just because I was me or something.” 

I'm rambling. The words feel thick in my throat and I am forcing them out with each stuttering breath like I’m trying to be heard underwater. 

“I shouldn't have brought you --” Sam starts but I talk over him.

“Why did you --”

I’m cut off by the crackling sound of footsteps and Sam backs away to adjust the lantern. Dean steps out of the trees and into the pool of light holding a white plastic box that I am coherent enough to recognize is a first-aide kit.  He holds it out to Sam who waves him away. 

“You do it.” Sam says.

Dean looks at me quickly and then back to Sam.  “Is he bleeding?” 

Sam looks at me, the question in his eyes, and I suddenly start laughing again and I reach up instinctively to try and stop the throbbing in my head pulsing in time with my heartbeats. Laughing hurts. 

Dean is kneeling down in front of me suddenly and when he reaches out I notice he's wearing a silver metal ring on his right hand that makes a spot on my cheek twinge in sense memory, Dean's eyes flick across my face as he notices me flinch but his expression doesn't change. I vaguely think about trying to stand up and run and just thinking about it makes my vision begin to blur again.

“No, no, no. Charlie, open your eyes. You gotta stay awake.” Dean says loudly.

Slowly but with precise movements Dean’s hand lands on my shoulder to keep me from falling backwards and then he grabs my face with his thumb on my chin and making shushing noises like he's trying to calm a spooked horse.  A tilt of his head tells me he's assessing the damage and does not plan on inflicting any more unless I give him a reason to but there's something else there too. Something like a challenge, like maybe he wants to let me hit him.  

He reaches his left hand behind my head and he's running his fingers through my hair. His calloused fingers scrape the back of my skull more gently than I would have expected but it’s done with the ease of a practiced field medic, cursory and direct. 

He takes his hand away and looks at his fingers. “Well you won’t need stitches but you’ll have one hell of a bump back there.” He says. He leans back and takes out one of those ice packs that you have to crack for it to get cold. He reaches out and holds it to my head. He grabs one of my hands and places it over the ice pack. 

“Try not to think too hard for the next few hours and you’ll be fine.” Dean says standing and taking the plastic box and moving over the sit next to Sam.  

I apply pressure to the pack. The cold burns my fingers but it’s starting to numb the throbbing pain in my skull. I bring my hand down and rest the ice pack in my lap for a moment. I pull the sleeve of my hoodie over my fingers and then press the ice pack to my cheek hissing at the sensation.

I watch Sam put the kit into the army surplus bag. The memories of the last two hours start to flood my brain; overlapping and repeating. _A curling tendril of sweet smelling smoke passed between lips, a momentary flash of silver, Dean on his knees with his face pressed into the front of Sam’s shirt…maybe that one I made up, maybe it’s like a guessing game, maybe I’m hallucinating, maybe I’m just contact high, was I sitting close enough to get contact high…_

Sam and Dean are sitting closely on the ground near the lantern talking and I try to suppress a freaking giggle; draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs trying to keep the rapidly warming ice pack pressed to the bruised parts of my head. They’re looking at me and smiling and it never happened and it totally did because it’s still happening – _fuck maybe if I just close my eyes_ …

"Charlie!"

“Hey. Hey, Charlie!”

They’re both looking at me; calling my name. They’re both smiling. It takes me a minute to press pause on the looping images in my brain and I manage to focus long enough to say  “Yeah.”  _I’m here. I hear you._

“You just gotta stay awake for one hour man. Then you’ll be okay.” Dean says.

“Then we’ll take you home. We promise.” Sam adds.

 “You’re gonna be okay.” Dean says again.

It’s hypnotizing and I sink into it. I wrap myself up in a comfortable blanket of confusion and plausible deniability and blame it on the concussion. _Curiosity killed the cat. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. Possession is 9/10 ths of the law. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. _It happened.It’s still happening.They are still talking but they are staring at me and not looking at each other.

“Let’s tell him a story Dean.” Sam says.

“The Barn ghost Sammy. Tell him that one.” Dean says.  

“Oh, that’s a good one, yeah. Hey Charlie, so get this….”


	6. Six

That night I dream about monsters with sharp claws behind the walls and pale faced children standing at the foot of my bed, a barn cat bewitched to chew off its own tale, maggots crawling out of the empty sockets of rotting corpses, ash and smoke clogging my lungs and overlapping voices speaking words I can’t pronounce in languages I don’t recognize, liquid silver dripping through my fingers and an immortal alchemist stealing peoples organs to stitch himself up a new body.

_“That’s not the way it happened Dean. “_

_“It’s called poetic license Sam.”_

I wake up to the tickticking sound of rocks bouncing against glass and open my eyes and squint against the bright morning light turning my head in time to see another gravel rock from the driveway ping and skip away against the window pane

I drag myself off the bed to investigate.  I don’t feel too bad any more but I catch my black-eyed reflection in the window and groan.  When I look down I see Sam waving up at me and I wave back on auto pilot.

_“So get this-” He’d said._

_“That’s just an urban legend." I’d said. “Everyone knows that one.”_

_“Yeah but they gotta come from somewhere right Charlie? I mean I mean what if –“_

I decide against changing my clothes. I grab my jacket and my backpack and I try to slip as quietly out the back door as I can. I silently follow Sam down the driveway. Dean is waiting at the end of the dirt road that my house is set back on and leaning up against the side of the car almost exactly like the first time I saw him.

Last night I had I almost fallen asleep in the backseat when they drove me home but I couldn't shake the bright smell of starter fluid burning off charcoal and it made me feel a bit lightheaded again. There was something else there too, a sweet, dusty, greasy smell almost like oil  rubbed into the old leather , musky and dangerous but not altogether unpleasant and I tried to focus on it.

_“I’m not holding his hair back if he starts to throw up –Seriously it’s longer than yours man.”_

“What's up shark bait?” Dean says stepping forward to grin at me. I catch a glimpse of his bloodshot green eyes before he hides them behind dark sunglasses. It’s obvious he’s still looking at me though.  

“S-sam? “ I have to stop to clear my throat.

“ Get in the car Charlie.” Sam says. 

When I don’t move Sam grabs my wrist and leads me around to the passenger side. He drags me into the front seat and slides along the bench seat until he bumps into Dean's back as he slides in on the other side. Dean turns and shoves Sam in the shoulder.  Sam leans over my lap to pull the door closed as the car rumbles to life under us. 

Sam somehow spreads out his long frame with one leg stretched across the passenger foot well and the knee of his other leg almost rhythmically bumping against Dean’s thigh.

“Looks like I’m going to miss that GED tutor after all Sammy.  Whatya think?” Dean says as we pull onto the road.

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam says.

“Whatever.  I need coffee. Maybe I could just drop you two off at the library and see if I can run into that cute waitress at the diner.”  Dean says.

“Yeah you do that.” Sam says.

Dean turns his head to Sam and I’m strangely aware again that there are words being said that I am not meant to hear. 

_ That’s a neat trick, _ I think, _inventing a nearly invisible language.  Or maybe it’s telepathy._ I realize I am not even sure I would be surprised if it was true at this point.

_ “Do you believe in ghosts?” _

_ “We all have our turn- ons man” _

_ “You might even have fun.” _

_ “He’s boring.  I’m bored” _

_  “I shouldn’t have brought you here— _

_ “Well then why-” _

“Katie Mae Grimes. The red head, with the -“  I motion vaguely to my chest.  “She only works the night shift because she’s taking classes at the community college during the day. I hear she likes to be called Kate now.”

Sam chuckles like he just won a bet and bangs his knee against his brother’s.

Dean just shrugs. “I still want coffee.”

“The Quick Stop has pretty good coffee.  Also, bagels.” I say quickly.

“I knew I liked you shark bait.” Dean says.

I give them directions: two lefts and a right at the traffic light.  “They might put another one in near the highway exit at the edge of town,” I sort of mumble as we turn on a red light.

When we pull into one of the three parking spaces outside I scramble for the door handle. It takes me an embarrassing minute too long to figure out how to open the door.

“No, no you wait here.  My treat.” I say and I nearly tumble backwards over a cement parking block on my way into the store.  The bell over the door chimes when I push it open with both hands and I cringe at the annoyingly familiar sound. 

When I lock eyes with the kid standing behind the counter his eyes go wide before he grins, “Dude what happened to your face?”

I take a deep breath and step forward saying “You have to cover my shift. Marty, I will give you anything.”


End file.
